


Division of Sight

by Raynidreams



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-26
Updated: 2011-07-26
Packaged: 2017-10-21 19:06:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/228607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raynidreams/pseuds/Raynidreams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>New Caprica - Leoben and the oracle have predictions for each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Division of Sight

Her tent is exactly where he knew it would be, resting alongside the others of her trade. For days his dreams have been filled with the patterning of the symbols outside; of the talismans tarnished and battered by the elements, relics tied up and bound by twisted weathered rags. He's seen them without ever having been here. He's seen this place on many occasions, and it is as clear to him as Kara's past had been before he'd even met her.

He glances behind him and around, before dropping back his hood. He is taking a chance coming here alone, but the need called for it. It is on this night of all nights, when the shouts and cries from the terrified humans forced back by thick impenetrable lines of centurions join in with the sound of the rain that he has to come. The first night of a new era.  _An era of peace._

He doesn't jump when there's gunfire, but his spine locks as he tightens stomach muscles readying to fight back if needs be.

Danger lurks in the air like a living thing; a menace so real he can taste it, just as he'd been able to taste sickness in the atmosphere when he'd stepped inside their tent earlier today. It had tasted of something dark as oppose to the light of her skin where he'd dropped one chaste kiss to her forehead in praise at the moment. Hours later, he's still annoyed with himself for caving to such weakness, but he'd been unable to resist. It wasn't like him; he was always so controlled, but she has that effect. Her purpose has that effect and his lips still burnt from the touch.

He shakes himself. He must stay alert.

Around him, movement shifts in the corner of his eyes; whimpers in the channels of his ears; children, animals and those fast or quiet enough to evade the round up still lurk in these moulding tents and abandoned crates. He's well aware that at any moment a bullet or knife could find its way into his back and he'd miss this opportunity forever; for it has to be now, on this night, the night they're reunited. The one he seeks has escaped and is waiting for him and the anticipation about the meeting feels like a high, one which he dampens down on with caution. He has God within him, and the one whom he's to meet, her empty lords. He has  _true sight_  and she and a few others like her…, a glimmer; a natural gift linked into what may come.

He breaks from the cover of his vantage point and walks slowly towards her tent; her temple. Gently, he draws back the veil and stoops inside.

Within, his breath goes from him and he's momentarily stunned. The aura within so different from the world outside. The tent is made of the same cloth, the floor the same mesh and though perhaps it's decorated with more trinkets and embroidery than the others, it is more than the look that makes this place feel different. It goes beyond than the pungent smell of incense or the gentle lap of water dripping through various symbolic lines of crystal into bowls..., he hates to admit it, but this place feels reverent even to him. He shudders and shakes off the impression wishing for the plainness of his own room aboard the baseship or the cleanliness of the home he plans. There is too much here that is confusing and if there is one thing he dislikes to be, it is confused. Drawing himself in, he arms himself with the many things he can see through the mist - steeling himself for the confrontation to come.

At last she moves from out of the back. She looks unafraid and sounds powerful where she jingles with charms. He can hear the rain thundering down above and around them. It mixes pleasantly.

Without any introduction he asks, "What have you seen?" Only to curse himself. He's usually better at the waiting game, a master of it, but her eyes appear all too knowing and all too like his own for comfort.

Steps closer and she brings her face to his, examining the lines of his jaw and firm mouth. "What do you think I've seen, cylon?"

He smiles and equally runs his eyes over her; taking in the way she dresses, the slight unfocused look to her gaze. He wonders if the attire and air are real or fabricated; an actor making themself look the part, or something effortless? He doesn't take time in deciding. There is something to her. The clothes things she pulls on against the cold rather than to publicly reflect a state of being. Respecting that, he warms to her.

Tone casual, he queries, "I think that if you're as powerful as you ought to be, then you would've warned them against the attacks."

"Maybe I did, and perhaps they didn't listen?" she smiles.

"Ah." He inclines his head.

"The Delphi Oracle and temple servers had long since lost their grasp of what is was they worshipped and or meant. They reported nothing wrong. What was one small oracle, one dream-reader, and her siblings against all their empty might?" She sounds genuinely curious as she asks.

He narrows his eyes. He's beginning to think that she's playing with him.

"Your siblings? Those that share your gift?' he pauses, 'And how many of them made it to here? How many of them are now possibly lost in the death of forever which is Hades." he mocks; his earlier apprehension twisting his words with a tinge of malevolence.

"You mean how many did you not murder for your God's afterlife?" she counters sharply.

He shies away from her intimate look.

She relents a little but not from the attack "Perhaps cylon, we're not so arrogant to think that we can change our deaths?"

He only smiles in victory. "That sounds like an excuse for not knowing."

"Or perhaps our own deaths are something we're thankfully never allowed to see... to carry the burden of ones ending is to be forever linked to it."

He laughs with real amusement now. "But you just so happened to miss the deaths of billions of others? That's rather a big blind spot."

She smiles dreamily at his words. "Blind spot? So it's our sightlessness at fault? If that's so, then why are you here now?"

He catches her subtle inference: not just him here to meet her, but all of them here to join with, and make peace with the humans. They've followed to admit their mistake, and therefore the cylons are at fault. It's their blindness that has let to all of this.

He falls back on one of the doctrines they'd held up before the war. "Humanity needed to be taught. Humanity also now needs to go one."

She counters him, "And you were the ones to teach it?"

He snorts, wrong footed. "We were made to kill by the humans, so we did." He says it even if he doesn't believe it anymore. He says it and instantly regrets it.

"And therefore, cylon, you're no better than what they made you."

"They..., you mean  _you_?"

All of a sudden she sits on the floor and he blinks straight, pale lashes at the smooth drop she's made. He comes closer, unable to resist using his height to intimidate her. The woman picks up a bowl and settles it into a well of the cushion before her. Either she's not scared by his physical presence or oblivious to it. He wishes he knew the difference.

"They... you,' she repeats, 'Do you consider your purpose that of your brothers and sisters?" she asks.

He could kill her now and end this argument. What was one more death in this night of many? When the mud trodden streets ran red with blood and black with grief? He smiles. It's not his usual maddening half smile but something altogether more lethal. To channel Kara, the killing instinct felt satisfying, lustful..., but contritely he's no longer a killer. Seriously, he no longer wishes to be.

She catches the look and eases away from him, presenting him with her back. It's an indifferent pose. The fragile bones at her neck and spine moulding shadows to emerge above her skin. He realises now that she's taken something from him by leaving him still standing. Her dismissal of the threat he poses is as disarming as if she'd chained him to the floor. He narrows his eyes wanting to hurt her with words instead.

"My sister will come to you or one like you,' he whispers intensely, 'She will want to know a secret and I wonder if she'll let you live afterwards?" He knew this to be the truth, for his sight had shown it him, only not what the secret was – meaning hidden in symbols or forgotten. On the floor, the woman shifts as if intrigued and then closes her eyes. He can tell she's centring herself, preparing to enter another sphere. He takes his sidearm out and shoots. She drops back on to the cushions as he lowers it again. The smoke drafts in with the spice fumes from her dulled brass incensory, adding a bitter tang.

Pleased, he looks down.

Between her crossed knees, the scrying bowl is now empty of water and broken into many pieces. Leoben counts them; there were thirteen. At the bottom of the bowl, hidden by the shine of the light was a little figurine; its gold shape now apparent where it rested over the broken shards of clay and spilled water.

"Is this what you came here to do? To taunt me with half-truths and then threaten me with my death?" If bothered by his act of violence, she remains facially impassive.

"I wanted to meet one of you. I saw  _you_  in my dream."

"And yet you never took the opportunity to come to one of us before this world?"

"Before this world, I had no interest in humanity."

"You're a very good liar, cylon."

"I know. But a good liar tells the truth as well as lies." He isn't talking about himself.

"Why are you here? Because of a dream? Humans dream."

"And machines don't?"

Her head tilts as she examines him, "What do you dream of, machine? What brings you here to tell me of them, those images that flicker behind your eyes?"

Irked, he mutters, "Obviously to see that you have nothing to say." This has all been a mistake, something miss-read. His vision playing with him when he has better things to do. Kara is waiting.

"Nothing to say..., how about this? I see that you have a singular purpose. You've taken the pilot."

And with that he grants once more that his sight and hers are akin. He also acknowledges that she's stepped into the realm of the other thing he doesn't like, which is being played at by his own game.

"She's important. God sent me to her."

"God?' Her lips quirk in a manner very similar to his own, 'The One True God?' Her smile slips from mocking to sad. 'Perhaps as human mortals, now with dead gods, we have the freedom to choose our own way other than to what our parents decide? So I ask again, are you not free? For I thought this war was about the freedom of your race... that and revenge."

Only the Ones could ever make his head go in circles like this. His older brothers' had an inner surety, an aptitude that always stamped down on his and his brother Twos' faith and dreams.

"The war was about cleansing. It was to free your souls unto God, salvaging them from further sin and allowing them into his light."

"How very kind,' the words seem glib for her but again her tone of voice simply shows sorrow. 'And now, what is this all about? Are their deaths no longer what you seek because you love one of them? Your beloved pilot? A sinner who breaks her marriage vows, who kills, who lies and cheats? How come her death is not fitting to free and absolve her soul of her sins?"

He does not like to think of Kara's death. Since they'd met, from the first when he'd looked up into her tired, pain filled face…, death had been the first reflection he'd seen. He'd watched it gently stroking her breast, slowly sinking itself into her spirit, leaving life a much paler shadow as it caressed her other. Her death was something inescapable in spite of how much he loved her. He knows it will happen and maybe sometime soon, but he's sure that she has much to do before that and he'll be there to guide her unto the end. Her end and his, for he intends to follow her into the light.

Coming back to the woman before him, he states, "I believe he's offered this to a sinner who has the chance to be redeemed in life."

"Why her? Don't all sinners deserve a chance at life? Even cylon ones,' she picks up the gold figurine, 'but of course, you have eternal resurrection. Death means nothing to those who cannot die."

He deflects her. "We respect death and can die…, and,' he enfolds his hands, aiming to look honest, 'I'm not a sinner."

"Lies... desire... want…," she reels them off like letters only to stop at his smile.

He grins at her, "I know myself. I know what I am. What I was made for."

"Then I ask for the last time: why are you here?"

"To see what you are."

"Then ask your question, Leoben. I am bound by my gift to answer, if I can."

But now he's here, he doesn't want to ask. It's too momentous a question. He shouldn't have come, he's wrong footed and the violence he'd faked before is building for a second time.

So he stalls. "I've done all the asking, is there nothing you wish from me?" It's an evident deflection.

When she replies, her voice is lower as though something spoke through her, "She will kill you many times before this is through. And each death will cut something inside of you more terminally than the pain itself. What you want is not yours to have."

His temper rising he grinds out "Not yet."

Faster than he expects she reaches out to grasp his wrist, then pulls her body up to his, "You're going to hold me in your arms, you're going to kiss me and tell me that you love me.' This is his dream and their lips are close. She presses hers up, soft, then slips her tongue inside. His body stirs at the ghostly familiarly of the gesture and he only sees who she's mimicking in the move. His hands slip down and he hauls her hips up to him, cupping her rear. He closes his eyes and her hair's pale silver as it brushes over his face; her body firm with muscle and hot with need. She bites his ear and whispers, 'And then she's going to butcher you and take it all."

He drops her faster than hot embers.

"She will need more than just you to stay," she carries on. He wonders briefly why she's helping him then gets angry at himself for allowing her under his skin. Letting her influence him.

"Like what?"

"You're a clever machine…, you can figure it out."

Gunfire splatters outside and there's a volley of screams and yells.

It's time to leave.

"She needs to trust that whatever you've seen is real. I don't see what you see, but I know that something of what you have to teach is important. There will come a time when she has to be able to believe you."

"And you? What's your part here?"

"My part's different and I'll play it, just as I always have.' Her face turns in profile and she asks 'Do you want some honesty?' She doesn't wait for a reply. "I don't believe in God, or maybe even the Gods, cylon. I believe that the world rests on our shoulders and the hunger of our will creates it; makes it. People are a force of nature. Your pilot, so aptly named Starbuck has plenty of force. You go fire that up and you will have played your part."

Leoben tilts his head as if hearing something in the distance, and without truly knowing why, says, "The child cries for a new dawn and Aurora is about to rise as Pythia wanes."

She smiles sadly and comments "I'm not sure if that's for me or another, but my sisters will know it."

And at these words, Leoben gets an impression of how maddening it is to talk to himself. Frowning he asks, "This is not over is it?"

"It's never over, but it is time to leave me now. And do not come back. The truth we've had from each other this night is all we're getting."

He holds out his hand for her to meet it, and then he leaves as quietly as he'd come.

* * *

Back at the baseship, she's awake and stalking the cage. The red light drowns her hair and coats her skin. He approaches carefully to greet her and she stills at his entrance, then stares at him in silence. It's an uncomfortable meeting for more reasons than just Kara's current rage. The oracle has injected something into his bones, an insect which burrows deep, gnawing through dead flesh and corrupting as it goes. It's only here before Kara he realises what she's actually achieved. She's sowed the seeds of doubt in his sight.

"What the frak do you want from me?" Kara asks him.

And for a moment Leoben is thrown, unable to give her an answer.


End file.
